NYWC

After doing a search through some old e-mails, we found a missing poem from our coverage of the New York Writers Coalition’s summer writing program for kids and teens — all the way back in August 2011. With many parents out purchasing holiday gifts for their children, we thought now was the perfect time to share the poem to show what kids left at home might be thinking.

Children bright eyes everything-minded children
Know
Absolutely nothing.
Far more
Than the aged
They reach
For a realm
Filled with only unreal
They can fly
These little people fly;
Imagine there are no bounds
To these imaginary bodies
They can go
Farther than the highest sky
The deepest ocean
The widest crevice of this big fat crummy earth.
The magic
Oh that beautiful magic
In their endless eyes
Is all the children know,
They won’t forget it
The children
See the children
Only go

I can’t imagine how it will be like to be a dragonfly.
Will my birthday be the same?
What will I do in the rain?
It will be a lot of fun to fly in the sky.
But where will I live and what will I eat?
There will be a lot of ups and downs to being a dragonfly.
I cannot imagine how it will be like to be a dragonfly.

We know the place where the sun melts into the ground.
After a long day shift, the sun releases a heavy sigh and down he goes.
Down down down…
The glowing red sphere sinks into the bottom; through the water, through the ocean floor.
To you, he’s in the distance, but we are right there.
We hear him say his farewells, his wish for rest, his relief.
He no longer must hang suspended in the sky; his wires are slowly lowered from the view of onlooking humans.
He gravitates down and smiles at his freedom.
He passes on his duty to the levitating illuminated moon and wishes her good luck, with a shake of their hands.
He retreats, reclines, relaxes.
After a tedious day, he completes his vanishing act.
I do not know what he does after that, but I imagine later he goes up again in another place with another grand view, with new people to be adored by.
But I do not know. I suppose only the children elsewhere know.

4’2″
fightin a war on his own
Them blue skies were no longer blue
The sun didn’t shine as bright as it used to
And he didn’t seem as strong
as those super heroes he would watch
on Sunday mornings
A fist 10 times his size flew
his way
He was useless
Home was a battlefield
And this war he was not gonna
Win so he went to the street
In search of a new family
A gang started to seem better
each day
So he was jumped in not knowin
better
That lil boy grew
Getting tougher each year
That little boy was not little anymore
You see with a gun in hand
He was stronger than any other
super hero
He made people afraid
with a gun in hand
He made people get down on their knees and beg
although he was strong
He made enemies
without a gun
He had his fist
The size of ones that used to knock him out
But with a gun to his head
He was that little boy again
when he stared at the bullet
in the barrel
He promised himself he will not beg
So he smiled
Closed his eyes
And said “shoot!”

there would be free cakes
you can fly
there’s no money
people are taught to appreciate other’s work
people are taught to be nice and positive
sharks look cute and they don’t bite
people can live where they want
nice things happen to nice people
your success reflects the effort put into it
you don’t have to go to school, you can learn by yourself
you can have an own bedroom with pillows and view of the sky so you can read and write in peace
there’s no too hot or too cold
showers switch to the perfect temperature immediately
people don’t judge so easily
there’s no cars for everyone so people don’t get lazy
children don’t want to grow up so fast

Sitting here
With so much potential to spark and burn
With the ability to destroy
Enclosed in a package
Reading “keep away from children”
The warning not quite
Threatening enough
With a bit of carelessness
I could be a spark
Scratched across my package
I could be a flame
Put on something
I could be a fire
I am not bad, just misguided
Just sitting there
It’s not my fault
It’s what you make of me

The city Department of Transportation’s controversial Citi Bike bike-sharing program, which put 600 bike racks on the streets of Fort Greene and Clinton Hill, has residents up in arms. But kiosks are not coming down, New York City Council Member Letitia James told more than 100 neighborhood residents at a raucous town hall meeting last night.

Get news about Fort Greene and Clinton Hill in our daily roundup, including the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s summer slate of youth-oriented programs and the third annual Art of Brooklyn Film Festival coming to St. Joseph’s College in Clinton Hill.

In today’s daily post, you’ll find news on the spring opening of the Fort Greene Artisan Market, a Pratt Institute student artwork display at a Gagosian Gallery in Manhattan and a new recording studio in the nabe.

In this crime report, locals told police that their belongings were stolen from cars and trucks, their homes were burglarized and their bank accounts were used in unauthorized ways. Also, disputes between significant others resulted in violence and robberies last week. The trend of robberies on the B38 bus continued last week, with another incident on May 4 marking the tenth such robbery in the precinct this year so far.

Videos

About the Local

The Local provides news, information, entertainment and informed conversation about the things that matter to you, your neighbors and your family, from bloggers and citizens who live, work and create in your community. It is run by students and faculty of the CUNY Graduate School of Journalism, in collaboration with The New York Times, which provides supervision to assure that the blog remains impartial, reporting-based, thorough and rooted in Times standards.